


Plan B(ruce)

by TheJokersEnigma



Series: Plan B(ruce) [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-02-01 02:12:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12694920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJokersEnigma/pseuds/TheJokersEnigma
Summary: This was a request I got on tumblr, so i thought I'd post it here as well! The general ideas is: Joker and reader are in a relationship and Joker asks reader to go to a party thrown by Bruce Wayne to gain some intel. She finds Bruce very charming and begins to spend more time with him, gaining intel alongside this until J begins to worry that he may be losing his girl and he must find a way to get her back.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of my new series based off a request given to me on tumblr. I have no idea how long this series is going to be or what is really going to happen - I'm just kind of winging it! (I don't even know if I'm keeping this title!)
> 
> This first part is a bit odd - the first half is kind of completely pointless, but i just kinda got carried away when writing it, but I've left it in there because who knows? I may need it at some point! In a book I might call it character portrayal, but I'm not sure thats really needed in a fanfic! haha
> 
> If you do manage to get through the chapter - and - heaven forbid - actually like it! Pls leave a message! Or if you hate it leave one too! i love to read comments! It keeps me going and I want to know if you want me to keep uploading the chapters onto here or not!
> 
> Thank you in advance!!! :D

J knew there was a problem the moment it was announced that one of his men required an audience with him. He had begrudgingly agreed to it when informed by Frost that it was regarding the real estate branch of J’s income – an area that had seemed to drop in its profits recently – allowing a brief word with the man, if only for it all to end with one less person he would need to pay.

J, however, didn’t quite realise the type of problem he would be dealing with until the man stepped into his office with a bloodied, dripping nose and a shining black eye.

“Come to a little disagreement?” Joker drawled, leaning back in his chair, bored already. If Smith was just here to sort out a small quarrel this wasn’t worth the effort of listening and J was very conscious of the pistol that sat on the desk in front of him. It would barely take a second to fire it at the waste of space in front of him, then there would be those few glorious minutes where – should J care to – the man could be saved. Of course, Smithy here would make the most of that time, gasping and begging for aid, for mercy, as he proceeded to drown in his own blood. They would be pointless prayers though - J never regretted shooting someone – there was no point making a move if you backed out of it.

After those few minutes, the guy’s mind would darken, his blood would run out, and his heart fail…

“Sir, the woman was crazy!” The Joker’s mind was snapped back to the present, glancing up from the gun to the man who clutched a rather bloodied tissue to his still-dripping nose. It didn’t look broken, but whoever had done it didn’t look like they’d held back much.

The Joker raised an eyebrow at the news that the culprit of the assault was in fact a woman. Maybe this wasn’t as boring as it first sounded.

J was used to other men trying to push their luck with him – often unhappy with the terms he laid out in contracts, and, as J never dealt with this side of his business personally, they often didn’t believe the rumours surrounding him - doubting the existence of the insane criminal clown – thinking they were nothing more than fictional rumours to scare people into their place.

Those people were dealt with sharply, reinforcing the rumours. It would be a few weeks again until anyone felt brave enough to fight back again.

But a woman. That was new.

The fact of the matter was, you didn’t get many women trying to open businesses in Gotham. It was most like largely due to the thuggish, mafia-like, people that you had to deal with when trying to purchase a property or pay rents – people like the man now stood before him. They were often all too willing – almost insistent – on alternative forms of payments.

“What was she interested in?” The Joker growled, sitting more upright, intrigued.

“The ol’ butcher’s place down Cathy street - wanted to open a cute café or somethin’.” Smith muttered, clearly not impressed by the girl’s ideas.

Joker knew better than to trust the man’s words completely – prejudice an ingrained concept in nearly all of his men – but he would at least have the address right. “Get me the lot details.” J ordered, and the man scurried from the room, still dripping blood, only to return shortly with a file in hand. He quickly handed it over to J before stepping back to the centre of the room fidgeting nervously in the presence of his boss.

The Joker ignored him now, opening the file and scanning the details inside. Yes, he vaguely remembered this place. Once used as a front for part of a drug trafficking system, the place had been completely wrecked by the shoot out that took place when a rival gang had targeted it during one of their many scuffles. It would need a lot of investment and renovation to get it up and running as a business again.

J now flicked to the back page where there was a list of interested parties. The first few had dropped out once they got a look at the place and saw the effort and money required the fourth one had been found dead in alley two days after viewing it – nothing to do with J or the property – and the fifth had been found in the adjacent alley the evening after viewing the property and after then having question the contract. That one had been J’s fault.

The sixth, and final, person on the list, was Miss [Y/N] [L/N]. Her current address and contact details were listed under her name, but that was it.

The Joker couldn’t help finding his interest piqued.

He let the folder drop backwards in his hands, peering over it at the bruised man that still waited anxiously to be dismissed, worrying now the Joker had been silent so long. J eyed the man curiously, only making him squirm more. “Tell Uncle J,” He simpered, “why the little girl bloodied you up so nicely…”

“I didn’t do anything, Boss! Honest! The girl’s just mental!” The man exclaimed earnestly. J raised his brows, pouting in exaggerated pity. “Poor boy,” He cooed, “And,” He breathed, “did you do anything in return to the young lady?”

“Nah, sir!” The man shook his head fervently, “She jus’ decked me one, stomped on me foot and then was gone before I could even wipe the blood outta my eyes!”

J listened to this with apparent interest but found it hard to believe that the attack by this woman would have been completely unprovoked. He knew his men were rarely honest in their words or intentions. He usually relied on that when dealing with people, but right now it was getting in the way.

The Joker nodded to Smith’s statement in understanding though, like a judge hearing the pleas. “It seems, Smithy,” He said, punctuating the name by dropping the folder he held on his desk, the papers slapping against the wood. “That you haven’t been entirely useless…” J mused to himself, knowing the other man would be breathing a sigh of relief, “but we’ll let the young lady be the judge of your fate.” He grinned widely.

Smith’s eyes suddenly widened in panic, only confirming what J had early deduced – the man wasn’t guiltless by any means- not if he feared the girl’s verdict. “You’re – uh - gonna find her, sir?”

J grinned and shoed him with a wave of his hands. Smith hesitated, torn between doing what was best – what he was told to do – and wanting to know whether the Joker was really going to talk to the girl - either way his life was likely to depend on it.

J quickly became impatient, watching the man with a bored, heavy lidded gaze. He rolled his eyes and dropped his hand to the pistol on the desk, lifting it and aiming it lazily at Smith, knowing the next reaction well, J’s loud, humourless laugh following the man out as he, did indeed, turn and flee.

The Joker let out a heavy sigh once the man had left, tossing the gun carelessly back onto his desk alongside the papers.

He was getting bored. Something he never like to be.

His eyes glanced down at the papers again. Maybe it was time to introduce a new character to the game.

\---------------------------------------------

You headed down the corridor with a certain amount of trepidation, not particularly wanting to see the creep again. You had hoped - clearly rather foolishly – that a punch to the face would be enough to keep the man away.

Maybe he just wanted a matching eye.

You had been pretty proud of that punch, even if it did mean you were now constantly watching your back as you walked the streets, half expecting to end up dead in alleyway as some form of revenge.

You knew who you were dealing with here. The man that had spoken to you was only one tiny part of a limb of an even larger system run by Gotham’s criminals. The problem was, most real estate in this city – especially the half-decent venues - were run by one criminal or another. You chose which ones to deal with depending on your preferences – the Mafia gangs were expensive, but they often welcomed you into their families, offering good protection for you and your businesses. Cobblepot’s contracts weren’t particularly fair – he asked for a large cut – but the lots available were prime, so your profits were bound to be more than reasonable. Two-face’s territory was cheaper, the quality decent, but you had the risk – if you attracted the crime lords attention - of finding your fate being gambled on the toss of a coin.

Every criminal’s territory had its perks and drawbacks – any half-smart businessman would weigh up each and decide on the best option for their business. You had tried, to a certain extent - you couldn’t, by any means, afford the Mafia’s rates, you didn’t like the idea of the constant risk to your life when dealing with Two-Face (and you weren’t about to hold your tongue to prevent it) and you didn’t like the idea of Cobblepot owning more of your business than you did. All of this certainly narrowed down your options on landlords until you finally found a building that fitted your budget and needs.

That’s why you’d view the small old ruined building that fell inside the renowned clown prince of crime’s territory. Yes, it needed a fair amount of work, but you could stretch for the necessary fixtures that were needed to get the place up and running, and after that, you could slowly make further improvements as you could afford them. Aside from that, the rent was ridiculous, and the building was in a good area meaning you should be able to scrape a decent amount of trade. Seemed good enough for you.

Shame that damn man had to go and ruin it.

You now stopped at the office door you had been instructed to go to upon arriving at the warehouse, and you shifted your briefcase to your other hand, freeing your dominant one to knock. You waited a moment, listening for the sound of footsteps, but heard nothing, so, when the door handle suddenly turned, you took a step back in surprise.

The man that appeared around the door, wasn’t the one you had spoken to the day before. This guy was much taller and bulkier, than the weaselly man you had punched, his suit much more expensive. You couldn’t work out his expression, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses despite being inside. The suited man didn’t say anything, simply tilting his head in question. You cleared your throat, “I – uh – I was contacted about a meeting to discuss my application for a lot?” You asked, wondering if somehow you had gotten the wrong room. This wasn’t like what you had dealt with in your last appointment – maybe they had upped security after you attacked the man?

The man studied you through his sunglasses for a moment longer before he finally nodded and stepped back, pulling the door open wider to allow you into the office. You hesitated, frowning at security measures, but stepped into the room anyway.

It was the same office you had originally been in to meet the estate agent, but it was not the same man who now sat behind the desk across from you. Your eyes widen as you recognised the pale skin, the bright green, slicked back, hair and the characteristic grin spread wide across his face at the sight of you. There was no denying it. No one else would have this unique complexion and style. The snivelling man had run straight to his boss himself.

This was the infamous Joker.

Of course. They weren’t going to kill you in any old alley, they were going to kill you right here in this office - less chance of it being picked up by the cops, you supposed. Why hadn’t you thought about this? Why had you been so stupid as to walk back into the place of business where you had recently assaulted one of their staff? These were all criminals after all. You weren’t going to get arrested or sued - they had their own justice system.

The Joker’s eyes flickered over you as stepped over to the desk he sat behind. You stopped a few feet short, keeping your eyes on him, knowing that you weren’t going to win any favours by being a cowering mess or shying away. If you had to die, you would do it with dignity. After all, it wasn’t a meaningless punishment – maybe a bit extreme for merely hitting a guy, but you knew the risks of dealing with people like these.

The Joker’s gaze was intense on yours though, and every self-preservation part of your mind was screaming for you to look away. Instead though, you tried to focus else, properly taking in the man - his flawless pale skin, sharp cheekbones and jaw line, the bright blue of his irises, the dark shadows around his eyes, even the tiny J under his left eye. He was insane, yes, but you couldn’t deny there was something irresistibly attractive about his odd features that - even if you weren’t trying to be brave – would make it hard to look away.

“Vamoose, Frosty.” The Joker finally said, startling you from your thoughts. The Joker didn’t seem to look away from your face, but you now turned to glance back at the man still by the door.

Johnny Frost. The Joker’s right-hand man. You’d heard of him, but, having never seen him, you hadn’t recognised him as the doorman. Now, though, you watched him follow his orders and slip out the office door, closing it behind him to leave you alone with the crime lord.

You glanced anxiously back at the Joker, confused and wondering what happened now. Wasn’t he known for making deaths theatrical? Wouldn’t he want to show off what happens when someone disagrees with him?

So, why then, were you alone here with him now? Was he going to torture you first? Did he want to enjoy that on his own?

“You look like you’re thinking too much, doll.” The Joker now purred with a sly grin, watching the emotions flicker across your face.

“Just wondering what this is all about, sir.” You admitted honestly, turning completely around to face him properly again.

He beamed widely at you. “This, doll, is about me offering you a business deal.”

You made a number of incoherent noises at this, finally stuttering out, “Y-you’re joking? Right?”

“Now what, kitten,” He purred, leaning forward in his seat towards you, “would make you think I was kidding…?” He grinned.

You frowned at him, unamused by the little joke. “Maybe because I practically knocked out one of your guys?” You suggested, raising an eyebrow at him.

He let out a loud, chilling laugh that made you jump. “Don’t tell me he didn’t deserve it, dolly.” He leered wickedly.

You furrowed your brow at the psychopath, thoroughly confused by the whole situation. “So, you’re not angry about it, in anyway?” You asked uncertainly.

“On the contrary, doll,” The Joker sneered, “It gave me a bit of entertainment.”

“So, you didn’t call me in here to kill me?”

He cackled again, “Oh, doll, you are fun.” He smirked. “I think you and I will get along just fine…” You frowned, bewildered by his words, completely understanding now how he had gained the rep of being insane.

The Joker continued to grin at your perplexed face, taking advantage of the moment to slide a folder across the desk towards you. You glanced down at it, recognising it as something similar to what the man had given you when you went to view the last property. This one, however looked slightly thicker and the business ID number stamped on the front was different.

You furrowed your brow at it but stepped forward to take it nonetheless, flicking through the stack of papers inside. The folder contained the details for a property with over 3 times the square footage of the place you had been hoping to apply for. It was also over 3 times the asking price.

You grimaced down at the details, knowing this place was otherwise perfect, then glanced back up at the Joker where he had been watching your face. “I – uh - believe you must have the wrong file, sir.” You muttered, placing the document back on the desk and cautiously pushing it back towards him.

“Oh, I don’t think I did… [Y/N]…” He purred. Your name on his lips sounded foreign to you, but not necessarily in a bad way, and it made your eyes snap back up to his. You squared your shoulders. Enough of this beating around the bush - you wanted to know what game he was playing and when it would backfire in your face.

“Mr Joker,” You began formally with a slight scowl, “I do not know what game you are playing here, but I can assure you I do not wish to be a part of it. It is not that I do not appreciate a game,” You assured him, “but if this is all just an elaborate scheme to punish me for harming one of your men, then I would far rather you do it much straighter to the point - even if it means putting a bullet between my eyes.

“However,” You continued, “If by some ridiculous chance you actually do want to do business with me, then I suggest you tell me straight exactly what it is you want from me.” You stated, your eyes stony and unwavering on him.

A small part of you screamed you’d taken it too far - that you’d spoken out of turn and now you had basically signed your death sentence, but you tried to ignore it, though the longer the silence stretched on between you and the Joker, the louder that little voice got.

The Joker’s face had been coldly blank during your speech and it continued to be so as he now scrutinised you, and you feared he was trying to assess what the consequences of your actions would be.

Eventually he shifted himself more upright, pushing the folder back towards you. “As per your requirements – straight talking.” He agreed seriously, sounding almost professional. “I want you to start your business here.”

You glanced back down at the folder, but didn’t pick it up this time, knowing enough about the lot number to know what he was suggesting was a ridiculous idea. “Whilst the offer, sir – and interest in my proposal – is very kind… I never asked for anything this size,” You said, gesturing down at the papers, “It’s far too big.”

“I think you can handle it.” The Joker drawled with a knowing grin.

“Maybe.” You agreed with a bob of your head - not one to underestimate what you could pull off - “But there is no way I can afford it.” You protested.

“Always looking for new investments, doll…” The Joker growled suggestively, not letting you out of this.

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “And how much is that going to cost me? 75% of my business? 80%? 90%?!” You demanded, “I’d rather the tiny shack I applied for…” You muttered moodily.

“Ten percent, kitten.” He bargained, and you glanced back up at him in amazement. The Joker simply shrugged at your look. “If I have you pegged right, princess, then that ten percent will soon be bringing me in more money than half of my businesses combined.”

“You have high expectations.” You observed, raising an eyebrow warily.

“I do.” The Joker grinned wickedly at you. “So, you’d better meet them, hadn’t you, doll?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this was a request from the person that originally requested the series Plan B(ruce):  
>  The reader has a restaurant down the road from Js club . Since j is the ‘king’ of Gotham, how does the reader get away with acquiring her own property ?!?? Especially since it’s close proximity to his club. If it’s not too much trouble Could u possibly make this a one shot (which ever you prefer of course)It doesn’t have to be directly related to the original story either.
> 
> So… This is what I came up with - it kind of works as a ‘prologue’ I guess, so that’s what I’ve called it, but you could read it as just a oneshot and I think it would be ok!
> 
> For those who are waiting on more parts to the series Plan B(ruce), I just want to apologise for the wait, I promise I will pick it back up again as soon as I finish some of the series I’m currently working on!  
> Hope you enjoy!


	2. Chapter 1

There was a knock at the door behind me. “Hmm?” I called at the door, not bothering to look up from the papers before me. I heard the door open and I shot a glance up to confirm it was Chris stepping into the room. Chris was a large muscular man, his neck the same size circumference as his huge biceps that made it nearly impossible to find him a jacket that fit him – even now I could see the material of his suit stretching dangerous tight across his body. His very appearance was intimidating enough – it was obvious he could likely crush you in his grip alone – but I also knew that the man was carrying at least two guns and a knife at all times.  
Chris was a gift from my boyfriend.  
“Yes?” I asked briskly, lost in my paperwork and wanting to get back to it, I thought there was something odd in the numbers, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.  
“He’s is on his way here.” Chris said. I nodded at him and he took this as his signal to leave, nodding back and retreating out the door once more, closing it behind him.  
I let out a sigh, gathering the papers together and filing them away for later. After that I headed straight out of the office, heading down one flight of stairs to the balcony dining level. Here a large circular balcony encircled the round building, railings separating the diners the yawning hole that overlooked the diners below on the main floor The balcony – and the room below – were currently empty, the cleaners already having been and gone, and service not starting for another few hours yet. I glanced around to check everything was in place, breathing in the usual scent of cleaning polish and disinfectant as I surveyed the dark wood table and chairs. I headed down the large, ornate stair case that led to the main floor from the balcony, rather than taking the staff corridor, and moved amongst the rest of the tables, checking cutlery placement and the state of the many glasses. All impeccable of course.  
Finally, I turned my eyes downwards, peering through the see-through floor into the kitchen below my feet. I wasn’t tasteless – the floor wasn’t an omg-the -floor-is-there actually-floor-beneath-my-feet-or-am-I-going-to-fall kind of see-through – but the tiles that made up the floor had a certain transparency to them that allowed diners – and in turn the staff below – see straight through them and make out moving shadows.  
What few people knew, however, was that directly above all the dining area, past the balcony, was what appeared to be a solid ceiling, the very centre made of glass that reflected back the scene below. Directly above this large circle of glass, was my office, surrounded then by a few miscellaneous rooms, mainly used for storage. This mirror circle, however, had a twist. It was made of one-way glass. An effective way to allow me to survey the workings of my restaurant.  
I headed back toward the staff corridor, taking the next flight of stairs to the kitchens. There was only one floor below this and it was a large storage larder and freezer which held the all our produce.  
I looked up at the ceiling as I wandered through the kitchens, noting the shadows of the tables above me. It still amazed me, and I had owned this restaurant for over a year now. I strolled to the centre of the kitchen where a petit woman in a chef’s uniform stood with striking orange tipped hair gelled into spicks on the top of her head, barking orders at the men and woman around her, conducting their assigned activities. “A’ [Y/N]!” She cried, noticing me.  
“Evening Bera.” I greeted as I stepped up to her.  
“Wa’ cannie do ye fer?” She asked, her Scottish accent strong and clear.  
“Felt like getting my hands dirty.” I told her, looking around me at all the busy people slicing, stirring and rushing, the two of us at the centre of the organised chaos. “Just tell me what needs doing.” I said, clapping my hands and rubbing my palms together.  
“Aye, ye can ‘elp.” Bera said with a smile and a nod. “I’m low on ‘ans for the desser’…” She said, glancing around, searching for someone “’Ey! ‘arry!” She shouted, here eyes locking on him from across the room and a skinny, pale boy shot his head up in alarm, clearly panicking he had done something wrong and fearing the wrath of Bera. “Boss is goin’ ta ‘elp ya, laddie.” He looked both relieved at this and more panicked, and I couldn’t help chuckling at the poor lads expression. Bera definitely scarred these poor kids, but I couldn’t deny that her methods produced good work.  
I made my way other to the lad to find him aggressively beating a large bowl of chocolate mixture. “So, what’s on the menu?” I questioned him and - though he must have known I was there - he jumped at my voice.  
“Um – just uh chocolate cake – lava cake.” He clarified. I looked at him blankly. “It’s a – uh – it’s a chocolate sponge with a chocolate middle – which is supposed to melt…” He tried to explain, “Ma’am.” He added for good measure.  
I kept my face blank in confusion for a few more moments – long enough to really make the lad sweat - before I let my wide grin spread across my face. “I know what chocolate lava cake is Mr Francis, don’t worry.” He seemed surprised I knew his last name, but he should be, I made it my business to ensure I knew all my employees - and know them well.  
I knew that Harry had only been here 2 months now, and previously had little experience with much cooking apart from compulsory lessons at school. I hadn’t interviewed him – I had allowed Bera to do that – and something in him must have appealed to her because that night I had spoken with her and she had strongly recommended me taking on the college dropout who had no qualifications or experience and also no other prospects.  
I let her make her case and left her dangling for a while on my response. Though she acted like she didn’t care whether I accepted the boy or not, I knew she had her heart set on him and - if Bera like him that much - I’m sure he had potential.  
Poor lad hadn’t realised what he had got himself into.  
I looked at him now, sweat on his face, hair messy and - thanks to its length - forced into a ponytail a tiny tuft of a ponytail which was then hidden beneath a shower cap-like hat. I was pretty sure he had lost weight since I had seen him on the day of the interview - not that I was sure he’d had any weight to lose - and I almost felt sorry for him, expect for he was bashing all the air out of the mixture.  
“Woah, woah, woah.” I said grabbing at his wrist where he was hand holding onto the wooden spoon and pulverising the mixture. His hand instantly stilled “Be gentle.” I instructed, “You’ve already done the beating for this recipe, this is the folding part.” I emphasised, removing the spoon and bowl from him. “You want to gently scoop and turn.” I said, demonstrating as I scoped the mixture and turned it over, revealing a powdery batch off flour that had been sat at the bottom of the bowl. “See?” I asked, doing the action a few more times and then handing the equipment back to Harry who had been watching my every movement.  
His hand was shaky when he reached for the spoon, but he got on with my instructions none the less, copying my movements. I leant my side into the metal counter as he continued, “Harry?” He stopped suddenly looking at me in panic, “No it’s fine, carry on.” I said quickly, gesturing to the bowl. He hesitated for a moment, but then returned to his work. “Do you know why you’re doing what you’re doing there?” I asked, nodding to the bowl, “- the folding rather than beating?” He glanced quickly across at me and then, he shook his head in embarrassment.  
“No, ma’am.” He croaked at me.  
“You can’t beat it, because you’ll lose all the air from the mixture, then the cake will be dense and chewy. Fold it gently.” I told him calmly, “And you’ll keep the air in the mixture, giving you a nice light and airy sponge.” He nodded along to my lecture, his face showing his concentration and I could tell he actually cared what I was saying. He didn’t want to screw up this job. Good lad.  
I watched him as he continued to work the mixture and I couldn’t help my mind traveling back to how lean he was again, “Harry?” He didn’t freeze this time, slowly becoming comfortable with my presence. “Do you even eat desserts?” He didn’t answer straight away, but eventually he shook his head.  
I thought that was all that I would get on the subject, but then he took a deep breath “I baked a cake once, about 2 years ago.” He mumbled, keeping his eyes on the batter, “That was the first time I ever made anything like it. I made it for my Mum. For her birthday.” He told me, his voice barely above a whisper and hard to hear in the noise of the busy kitchen. “She never used to let us have sugar – she’s quite a religious lady - in her own crazy way.” He said, trying to make light of it with a quirk of his mouth. “Use to say something about it being a sin – though I can’t remember her reasoning.” He admitted. “Anyway, I had spent a couple of years at boarding school at this point – everyone else ate cake, chocolate and sweets – and I kind of forgot what she used to say. So, when her birthday came around, I decided to make her a cake - didn’t even think anything wrong about it – it was just what people did.” He muttered, forgetting to stir, instead staring down at the mixture, not seeing it, lost in memories. “But when I gave it to her, she threw it straight into the bin, said I was a sinner and a terrible son. I wasn’t allowed to leave church for the whole day – thought one repentance wasn’t enough I guess. Then she refused to let me go back to school. I had to drop out. No one else where would take me after that, they wouldn’t believe why I had to leave.”  
I watched in sadness. That was terrible. Poor boy.  
“Harry?” I asked quietly, breaking through his reminiscing. He shook himself slightly, returning to his mixing.  
“Yes?” He asked.  
“If you don’t know how to bake, why does Bera have you managing the dessert?” I asked curiously.  
He gave a short bark of laughter that lacked any amusement. “Bera likes to throw me in the deep end, watch me drown and then resuscitated me when I’m a second from death.” He joked. I raised a confused eyebrow at his metaphor. “She’ll get me to make this,” He said, gesturing at the bowl as he stirred, “I’ll choose the wrong amount of ingredients or beat it rather than folding,” he glanced at me with a small smile, “I’ll burn it, and then I’ll make the chocolate bitter and solid.” He told me shamefully, “She scold me, telling me I’ve ruined it, then she’ll always magically appear with a whole batch of perfect ones to replace all those I screwed up.” He explained, “Bera doesn’t believe in teaching, she believes in learning.” Harry said simply. I smirked at this. That sounded right.  
“How about we prove her wrong then?” I suggested.  
“What?” Harry asked in confusion, forgetting himself for a moment, “Sorry.” He said when I looked at him funnily.  
I shook my head. “You poor boy” I muttered with a small smile, shaking my head. “Bera’s sure whipped you into shape.” I chuckled sympathetically. “I’m going to help you.” I explained, “– then we won’t have any need for Bera’s spares – and the whole kitchen will be able to have a treat at the end of the night.” I said with a wink at him.  
His eyes lit up at my offer. “Alrigh’, laddie,” I said, mimicking Bera’s thick accent, “let’s do this.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
I knew I was pissing J off by not meeting him in my office, but recently I was pissed off with him for cancelling on me so much that I think he deserved to be a bit disappointed.  
Our relationship was rocky – it could hardly be called a stable relationship when your dating one of the most famous criminals in all of Gotham city – but what annoyed me most was that J probably didn’t even see that our relationship was rocky. He seemed completely content with our arrangement. And I had too - at the beginning - now I wasn’t so sure, and I felt like he only met with me when wanted something. He never showed any care as an actual boyfriend would, he just showed up when he had a need or a favour. But why would I expect anything else from the clown prince of crime? The psychopathic murderer who was supposed to be locked up in Arkham at the moment, but was instead running a night club only a few minutes downs the road.  
So, when I was happily in the kitchen, teasing and joking with Harry as I taught him how to create the perfect lava cake, J was pacing angrily back and forth in my empty office. That was until the inopportune moment that he appeared in the middle of the kitchen in the same second that Harry embraced me in a warm hug of thanks after I offered him a taste of his perfect cake creation.  
All I heard was a snarl and I knew I was in trouble. J pulled his gun out, immediately aiming it at the two of us. I automatically reciprocated the action out of pure instinct and I heard Harry gasp, jumping a mile away from me.  
“So, I’ve been waiting patiently upstairs,” (I highly doubted it had been patiently) “only to find you down here cuddling the staff?” J snarled at me. I scowled at him, refusing to drop my weapon till he dropped his – which he hadn’t yet.  
“Put your gun down, J.” I muttered darkly, not taking my eyes off him, knowing how unpredictable he was. The people around us had all frozen in what they were doing, all watching the drama between me and my boyfriend. How embarrassing, I thought to myself – I wish I could say this was the first time.  
“Aww, doll. You didn’t say please.” He whined, with a forced grin so wide that it made his eyes go squinty. “Besides, you’ve got your friend out too.” He pointed out nodding his gun at mine.  
I sighed heavily, already exhausted by his behaviour and he’d barely been here a few minutes. I was going to have to be the bigger person again. I rolled my head in a sign of pure exasperation, but dropped my gun nonetheless. J grinned at me in childish triumph, letting his own gun linger in the air slightly longer as a show of having won, before he dropped it as well, letting the pistol hang loosely in his hand by his side. I kept a firm grip on mine, not trust his mood swings in the slightest.  
“What do you want J?” I asked as the kitchen staff around us began to turn back to their work, seeing that the situation had diffused somewhat – though I knew they were probably keeping half an ear on us.  
J grinned at my lack of enthusiasm, my annoyance only fuelling his cheerfulness. He returned his gun to the holster slung over his shoulder and I copied him as he moved closer to me. I couldn’t help but admire his lithe, predatory movement - everything about this man was graceful, dangerous and so captivating. It also made up for his shit personality.  
I raised an eyebrow at him as he stepped up to me, ignoring any concept of personal space or the public situation we were in, and immediately grabbing my arse, lifting me slightly off my feet as he pulled me up against him.  
I automatically moulded myself to the shape of his body – a shape I knew well – and I felt his breath tickle the skin just below my ear. “Can’t a guy just come and see his girl?” He teased seductively in my ear. He’d barely touched me, but already I had hot feelings creeping all over me from the length of his body against my own and the smooth tones of his familiar voice. The man was hypnotising when he wanted to be.  
“No.” I purred back at him as I ran my hand over his shirt covered chest, felling the defined muscles beneath the highest quality silk. “Because you never do.” I teased back with a knowing smile as I traced his sharp jaw line with my lips.  
I felt him purr under my touch and I almost forgot the kitchen and its people around us. “You’re right, kitten.” He growled, “I don’t.”  
The next thing I knew he had scoped me up into his arms and was carrying me out of the kitchen. In the back of my mind I knew I ought to be annoyed with him, should punish him somehow, but I hadn’t seen him in awhile and my lust was easily overpowering any irritation I had towards him. I’d be annoyed later, I promised myself - for now I was going to enjoy myself.  
“Wait.” I stopped him with a devilish grin on my face. He looked down at me with raised invisible eyebrows, but he dropped me down, folding his arms as he watched me skip back towards the counter of lava cakes. I grabbed a few and then skipped back, presenting to them to his quizzical and slightly amused face. He knew what I was thinking immediately, and his eyes flashed hotly, instantly scoping me back into his arms and whisking me back to my office, growling sinful things in my ear as I giggled.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------  
After a short break of heat and passion, I found myself lying curled with my back against J’s chest on the leather couch in my office, covered in a throw that usually hung over the chair. I didn’t want to move and disturb this moment we had made – the peace and calm from an otherwise chaotic man - so instead I began to slowly and delicately trail my finger along the hand outstretched next to me from where J’s arm leant against the cushions and around my shoulders.  
I traced the lines on his palm, feeling the familiar rumble of a purr from his chest against my back. I smirked to myself as I continued my pattern across his skin, sometimes travelling to creases encircling his wrist, sometimes moving up the tip of his fingers. Eventually I allowed my fingers to slide between his, interlacing them and griping his hand. He followed suit, surprisingly, and I watched as his large muscular hand easily dwarfed mine. I didn’t say anything, I just stared at his hand over mine. This was a hand that had shot people, stabbed people, strangled people. Yet I didn’t care. Because it belonged to the man I loved.  
I smiled to myself as I thought this, admiring his pale white tones next to my normal, slightly tanned skin. We probably couldn’t be more different. But for the most part – though he annoyed me and could be a selfish arse - we worked. I couldn’t imagine life with anyone but J. I just wish I knew if he felt the same.  
I shifted around so I faced him, bringing his arm up and around from behind my head, so our hands remained interlaced. I smiled, keeping my eyes on our hands, though I knew his sharp blue eyes were on my face, and I could feel his gaze burning my cheeks.  
“I should do this more often.” He growled down at me and I laughed quietly, finally looking up at him where his eyes still held a simmering heat from a few moments ago.  
“Maybe you should.” I giggled, adding a bit of pressure to his hand. “But if you are, maybe I need to invest in shower in this office.” I teased, noticing a spot of chocolate left over from the lava cake on his chest and using my free hand to wipe it off with my finger, licking the crumb off with a wink at him.  
I saw his eyes smoulder hotter and I knew I’d be in trouble if I didn’t move soon – there was only so much of the day I could waste away in his arms and I had other things I needed to do – like run my business. Which reminded me, I had no idea how much time I already wasted away.  
I glanced behind me at the rest of the office, catching the clock on the wall by the door. Shit. It was 6pm - the dinner shift had started over an hour ago. “Sorry J.” I said, with a kiss to his jaw, “Some people have to work.” I teased, as I quickly untangled myself from him and stood up, picking my clothes off the floor and getting dressed speedily.  
“Ah, ah, ah, doll.” He said, slipping to his feet and grabbing my hand, stopping my attempt to button up my shirt and pulling my attention back to him. “We’re not finished yet.”  
“J.” I giggled, “We definitely are. I have work to do, and we’ve had more than enough fun for now.” I pointed out, trying to pull my hand out of his, but he held on tight and I felt my smile instantly drop. His face was serious.  
“That’s not what I’m talking about, princess…” He drawled, tugging me closer and moving his hands downwards, finding my hips and holding me in place. “And though, that was an unexpected bonus, that wasn’t what I’m here for.” My every sense was on alert now, alarm bells ringing in my mind.  
“What J?” I demanded, defences up.  
“Don’t be like that, kitten….” He purred, turning on his charm, but I brushed it away. His mind was on business, and so would mine - none of his mind games.  
“Stop with the cute nicknames J.” I told him dismissively. “Spit it out.”  
“I just need you to do me a little favour, doll, that’s all.” His grip tightening subconsciously on my hips, knowing my instant reaction would be to withdraw from him. “You do owe me from earlier…” he said, clearly hinting to my time with Harry.  
“I owe you nothing.” I snapped back, “And the answer is no J.” I said, no even waiting to see what he had to say.  
“Come on now, Kitten…” He drawled sweetly, though behind his forced smile I could hear him holding back his temper. “You don’t even know what it is yet…” He purred.  
“I don’t care J, get one of your lackies to do it.” I snapped, worming my way out of his grip.  
He glared at me, his eyes flashing with annoyance for a moment before he reined it back in again, biting back the anger and his eyes softening slightly again. Clearly he was learning that snapping at me would only lose my cooperation altogether. “I would…” He drawled, jerking me at my hips so I was forced closer to him, only inches away from his body again. “but they don’t quite have the curves,” He let go of my waist, waving his up and down my body, mapping my womanly curves, “to do the job.” He finished.  
I glared at him suspiciously. “Then definitely not.” I spat at him, making the most of him releasing me and turning to leave the room. I had a restaurant to run.  
I didn’t get very far however, as J threw an arm out, catching me and towing me back towards him. Anger flashed in me, fed up of his irritating persistence, his inability to accept when I refused him. I threw an arm out at him in anger, but he easily dodged it, knowing me too well. In a split second though, I had a new idea and slammed my heeled foot down on his – childish maybe, but it worked in taking him by surprise - and he doubled over before bursting into hysterical laughter. It was enough to get him to drop his arm from me, and I once again tried to escape, turning to storm off, but this time he grabbed at my shirt, pulling me easily backwards by the material, the height of my heels allowing him to easily pull me off balance and cause me to stumble backwards. J made the most of this and pull me further backwards, shoving me up against the wall, pinning my arms with his own and painfully covering my feet with his own. I couldn’t move anything but my hips, and they were unlikely to do much damage.  
I screamed at him in frustration. Squirming and writhing in his grip till he leant his whole body against mine to stop me moving. I cursed how strong he was, and how my body reacted to this simple touch.  
“Now, as much as I don’t hate this position, doll.” He growled sinfully, “I would like you to listen” he snarled, smacking me against the wall when I once more made an attempt to break free from his hold, “to what I have to say.” He finished, his voice calm again.  
I was out of breath now from my labours and I gave up. I could hear him out, but that didn’t mean I’d have to agree to anything. “What then?” I panted, glaring at him with hatred, my head slightly pounding with the collision against the wall.  
“All I want… Kitten…” He purred sweetly, “Is for you to attend a small gathering of rather… expensive people.” He murmured to me, his eyes watching every feature on my face.  
“Why?” I snarled.  
He didn’t react to my aggression now, “Why just to be a friendly neighbour… After all, that is what you will be. I need you to get to the know the aristocrats of the city – one in particular… Bruce Wayne…”  
“The millionaire playboy?” I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me and I forgot to be pissed off for a moment.  
“The one and only…” Grinned J sinisterly.  
“Let me guess, you want me to seduce something out of him like I did with Marvo?” I guessed, a bored look on my face.  
“Bingo, doll!” He exclaimed with a wide grin. “Just like Marvo. Except, this time – princess…” He laid on thickly, “It’s not a run-down back alley casino… This time it’s in the best room in the house.”  
“Oh?” I smirked, “And where’s that?”  
“Ah, ah, ah, doll.” He tutted, “Confidential information unless you part of the plan.” He told me with a grin meant he knew he had me.  
I wasn’t going to play along, shrugging like I didn’t care. “Oh, well. Can I go now?”  
“Sure, doll.” He said, matching my bluff, “Just thought you might like a chance of splashing some cash on a new dress and spending a night pampering yourself with what Gotham’s finest had to offer. All the fine food… champagne… beautiful jewels… not to mention the money…” He purred seductively into my ear. “It would be your first night off in weeks, wouldn’t it…?” He asked like the devil on my shoulder, knowing full well the answer. He knew he had me, I could see it in his smug face, those blue eyes sparkling.  
“Just that one night?” I asked cautiously, with a raised brow.  
He grinned triumphantly.  
“And I wouldn’t have to sleep with anyone?” I asked – best to just check.  
J’s face clouded over. “I’d like to see someone even try to touch you.”  
I rolled my eyes in exasperation, but the truth was I was biting back I smile – I loved it when he was jealous. I sighed heavily as though this was the most tiresome thing. “Fine. What do I have to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first part of my new series based off a request given to me on tumblr. I have no idea how long this series is going to be or what is really going to happen - I'm just kind of winging it! (I don't even know if I'm keeping this title!)
> 
> This first part is a bit odd - the first half is kind of completely pointless, but i just kinda got carried away when writing it, but I've left it in there because who knows? I may need it at some point! In a book I might call it character portrayal, but I'm not sure thats really needed in a fanfic! haha
> 
> If you do manage to get through the chapter - and - heaven forbid - actually like it! Pls leave a message! Or if you hate it leave one too! i love to read comments! It keeps me going and I want to know if you want me to keep uploading the chapters onto here or not!
> 
> Thank you in advance!!! :D


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this has a sudden Christmas theme (not that much - it just happens to be Christmas) because I wrote this as part of my Christmas advent calendar - that is also why its so short because I've only had a few hours to work on it!  
> Hope you enjoy it anyway

J had been right. This was the best room in the house. This was probably the best room in the whole city. It was situated at the very top of the Wayne Enterprise Tower and the room took up the whole floor, the walls on my left and right made completely of glass that showed the breath-taking view over the city on either side. Not only was the view gorgeous, but the room itself had been lavishly decorated with expensive festive decorations – a large, extravagant tree next to the small stage which had been decked in tinsel and lights where a live Jazz band played upbeat Christmas songs, wreaths on each window, golden embroidered table cloths, mistletoe on the pillars, candles in brackets that gave off a distinctly Christmassy smell.  
It was beautiful and made me feel like I’d just won the lottery.  
I’d made J buy my dress for me – knowing he could afford it - and I hadn’t held back on the price label.   
That would teach him to use me like this.  
But then, I couldn’t help thinking as I looked around, this night didn’t look like it was going to be complete torture. Everyone looked just as stunning, all making the most of the free open bar and the dainty canapes handed out by servers whilst they gossiped away, or swayed to the tunes performed on the stage.  
But who was it I was supposed to be talking to again?  
I helped myself to one of the glasses of champagne that were being handed out at the entrance, then stepped my way delicately to the side of the room, trying to look like I belonged there. I sipped at the alcohol as I wandered the perimeter of the room, surveying the room and the company that milled noisily in the centre, occasionally unable to help my glancing out the tall windows at the city that way laid out before me.  
Most people in the room seemed to have paired up – whether because they arrived that way, or that was the way these socialites just gathered, I wasn’t sure – and I couldn’t help but wish that J was with me, so I didn’t appear so lost on my own.  
Despite this, I made sure to enjoy myself amongst the riches none the less – after all how often was it that I would be able to pretend to be an aristocrat and all the perks that came with it? I made sure though, to keep an eye out for my target – the infamous Bruce Wayne. I had seen him in enough news reports and newspaper articles to know vaguely what he looked like, but I wasn’t sure how easy it would be to pick him out amongst all these other men business men in their identical suits.  
Ok, enough of being on the outskirts of this part, it was time to dive into it now that I’d had a bit of liquid courage. I placed my empty glass on a cloth covered table in one of the corners of the room, then confidently sashayed my way into the middle of the room. I could feel the eyes on me, the stranger amongst them all, but I didn’t falter in my strides, walking like I outranked them all, like I had important matter to attend to - though I actually had no idea where I was going or what I was doing.  
Despite my upturned nose and important air, I kept my eyes on the people I passed, scanning for a face that matched the picture in my head. When I finally neared the other side of the room my eyes fell on the large balcony lit with fairy lights. I headed for this.   
A group of 4 people entered back into the room as I left it, none of them bothering to hold the door open for me and I scowled out into the darkness at this - clearly manners did cost something, and these people weren’t willing to pay it.  
I was the only one out here now, and I understood why, the balcony had been built slightly into the building to lessen the strength of the wind at this height, but it was still freezing out here. I wrapped my arms around my chest against the cold and walked up to the railing, leaning my arms on it and looking out at the lights of the city. I could see the windows of office buildings where late night workers were still at their desks, the bright advertisement bill boards that stood tall and garish against the dark sky and the streets below were lined with tacky lit names of casinos and clubs.  
“Quite a view isn’t it?” Came a voice from behind me, the tone of the voice deep and soft.  
I played it cool, not bothering to turn, my eyes on the landscape before me. “Yes it is.” I agreed.  
The man came up next to me then, but I still didn’t bother to turn. He copied my position, leaning over and resting his elbows on the balcony railing. “Bit cold though isn’t? Especially in a dress like that.” He said, and I saw him glance me up and down.  
I turned to look at him now, crossing my arms and leaning my hip into the barrier, shooting him an unimpressed raised eyebrow at his last statement. The light behind the man threw his face into shadow, but the more I listened to his voice, the more familiar it was. “And just what is that supposed to mean, Mr Wayne?”  
“Oh nothing.” Bruce Wayne defended quickly, realising his mistake and turning to face me as well, “Only that your dress doesn’t really protect your arms against this wind.” He said gesturing to the sky.  
I laughed at how nervous I had made him – clearly, he wasn’t a man that was often poked fun at. “Don’t worry.” I brushed it off, “I’m only teasing.” I smirked, and he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m [Y/N].” I said, holding out a hand in a sign of peace.   
Bruce took it gratefully, “I guess you already know who I am.”  
His hand was strong, and surprisingly rough for a business man. “Of course, Mr Wayne.” I smiled at him warmly. He had a nice feel to him.  
“Call me Bruce.” He insisted.  
“Ok, Bruce.” I nodded, releasing his hand. “I do have to ask though, why are you out here, when the party is in there?” I asked, gesturing back towards the door.   
“Honestly I’m not one for parties…” He admitted rather sheepishly, “But it kind of comes with the job.”  
“Of being the owner of a multi-million-dollar company, or of being a billionaire bachelor?” I teased.  
“Both.” He laughed, and I laughed with him.  
“What about you?” He asked, “Parties your scene?”  
I considered this for a moment. “Not really.” I said truthfully. “I’m more of an all work, no play kinda gal.”  
“Might explain why I’ve never seen you around.” He said.  
I knew my lines well and didn’t even hesitated before I said, “Well I’m new to Gotham, first event I’ve been invited to.” I explained. “So, I appear to be the stranger that everyone gawks at.”  
“I’m sure that’s not the only reason they’re gawking.” Said Bruce and I couldn’t help but blush at his smooth flirtation.  
We chatted a bit longer about this and that. I stuck as close to the truth as possible, so I didn’t get too lost in a web of lies – I told him I ran a highly successful line of restaurants and was hoping to start one up on Gotham. He seemed genuinely interested and it almost made me feel bad. He seemed a nice bloke, but also quite simple. Getting information from him shouldn’t be too hard.  
It wasn’t long before he was offering his jacket for my shoulders – which I gratefully accepted – and then eventually he led me back to dance for a while – under the promise that it was to ‘warm up’.   
Bruce was such good company, in fact, that I almost forgot the reason I was there in the first place – happily chatting away about anything and everything – the things I didn’t need to lie about like my dream holiday, favourite colour and other silly details that we somehow got onto.  
Yes, I had almost forgot why I was at the party, that was until Bruce asked about my love-life. I was sure he was wondering if he could put the moves on me, but I was promptly reminded of J and the original plan for the evening. Shit. I muttered something about it being complicated – because it honestly was. I didn’t know what I was to J – a stress release? An easy fuck? Or something more? And I didn’t know what I was to J – did I love him? I felt like I could do, maybe, but did I right now? It was complicated.  
Bruce didn’t push the question any further, but now I had been reminded I changed my head back to business and knew I needed to start asking the man a few more specific questions I had runover with J earlier that day.  
“So, what –“  
Bruce glanced down at his watch that flashed something – maybe an alarm? Then snapped his gaze back to mine. “I’m really sorry, [Y/N], I hate to suddenly run, but I’ve got an important meeting in the morning that I need to be slightly coherent for.” Bruce said with a small apologetic smile.  
I smiled back in understanding at this, though inwardly I cursed at the shit timing and my lack of concentration on my job all evening. J wasn’t going to be impressed if I went back to him empty handed, especially when I made him fork out so much for this night. I had to pull this back somehow.  
“Bruce, I –“ I started.   
“Would it –“ Bruce said at the same time.  
“Sorry.” We both apologised, like a cheesy chick flick couple.  
I gestured at him, “Go for it.”  
“I just wanted to know if I’ll see you again soon?” Bruce asked, with a raised eyebrow.  
“Uh –“ That took me by surprise, “Yeah, sure. That would be nice.” That hadn’t even been a lie just to see him again to gain some information - it would actually be nice to see him again.  
He smiled at me, then glanced at his watch again. “Ok, now I really have to leave.” He said, though he seemed reluctant.  
“Go.” I said.  
He wavered.  
“Go!” I laughed, shoving at him playfully, and he exaggerated the movement, leaning further away from me than I could ever hope to have pushed him. I smirked at his good humour until he then swung back and planted a surprising kiss on my cheek.  
My eyes widened momentarily, but then I quickly gathered myself back together again. “Smooth.” I mocked with a smug smile. “Now go!” I cried with a laugh, shoving him again, making sure this time that I pushed him solidly in the back toward the exit.  
“Ok…” He sighed dramatically and headed off with a last wave in my direction.  
I gave him a small wave back, unable to help myself smiling after him. It was nice to talk to a guy that I wasn’t always trying to second guess the meaning behind his words or actions like I was with J. J never did anything without a reason. But Bruce was more of an open book - I doubted there was anything hidden behind what he did.


	4. Chapter 3

“So, you’re telling me that you’ve never cooked for yourself?” You laughed in disbelief at Bruce Wayne who sat across from you at the small coffee shop table. It had been two weeks since the party at Wayne tower, you’d met Bruce at a few other events, but this was the first time you had been alone together.

Bruce paused as he lifted his cup of black coffee. “Well, there was college.” He pointed out, tipping his cup slightly towards you, a small smirk on his face. That afternoon you had attended yet another event that you’d conveniently been ‘invited’ to after finding out Bruce was rumoured to be appearing at. It had been an afternoon tea fundraiser for some hospital division or other and you had ended up spending most of your time sat at a table with a group of strangers chatting randomly about nothing of any significance. You made the most of it though, getting enjoyment from coming up with a few juicy pieces of gossip that sent scandals around the room, but that were also complete lies.

It kept the party a bit more entertaining. For you at least.

It was only towards the very end of the event that you had finally bumped into the billionaire, both of you equally surprised to see the other at that point, and Bruce had invited you out to coffee to continue your conversation once you began to be ushered out of the room.

You’d eagerly agreed.

“Oh my god,” You now laughed, “Poor Alfred! How old is he?!”

Bruce took a sip of his coffee. “I have no idea.” He admitted with a shrug, replacing his cup in its saucer, his face deadly serious. You stared at him in complete shock until you noticed his lip quirk into a smirk.

“Oh, your terrible!” You cried and, without thinking, playfully smacked his upper arm.

“Ow!” Bruce laughed, rubbing the spot with his hand, “You sure pack a punch.”

You shrugged causally. “Yeah, well, I have to.”

You thought you noticed Bruce stiffen, his face clouding over slightly. “You shouldn’t.” He muttered.

“You mistake me,” You shook your head, quickly backtracking. “I like to.” You clarified, and Bruce now eyed you with a new interest. “And it looks like you do to.” You observed in an attempt to distract him, reaching out to grip his bicep through his suit jacket where you had just smacked him. The muscle was huge under your hand, possibly even bigger than the Joker’s and you had always admired his.

Bruce seemed to shrug off the observation like you had. “Uh – martial arts – it’s a good stress reliver.” He said in a way of explanation.

“Huh.” You said, “Maybe I need to look into that…” You mused.

“Stress at work?” Bruce asked, and it sounded like he truly cared.

You frowned. “In a way.” You confessed. The truth was it was J – and you weren’t sure whether to class him as business or pleasure any more. It had basically been two weeks since you’d last seen him, the morning after your night with Wayne. You had reported to him in his office to give an account of the evening, though you hadn’t been – and still weren’t – sure entirely what information he was after. You had been given a very short briefing, but it seemed J just wanted you to talk to the billionaire and feedback any information you got from him. From what you could gather, your mission was to get the information you couldn’t read in the tabloids – the stuff the man would only say to someone he cared about or trusted.

Despite his eagerness for the information, J had listened to your retelling that first morning with only half an ear, showing an interest for only the first few minutes before he then seemed to drift off into his own mind. You had scowled at this, but continued on nonetheless, despite knowing you had basically been having a conversation with his chair.

After that meeting - when you had been dismissed shortly afterwards without much warmth - you’d barely seen the man. He hadn’t bothered to stop by your office at all and, in turn, you refused to pay him any more visits – not that you believed you would be welcomed anyway. You knew J well enough by now to know he had most likely locked himself away in a room somewhere, scheming for hours for whatever it was he was planning.

J had, however, made it clear to you after that first meeting, that he wished for you to continue on with your intel gathering. You had wanted to protest at first, but the J was willing to keep paying for you to attend these posh events and – for now – you were willing to reap the benefits of this. It’s not like you didn’t enjoy the company after all – especially of one billionaire bachelor.

The following fundraisers, charity auctions and celebrations had all been set up through the Joker’s men rather than J himself, but you’d found - on more occasions than not- Wayne would not actually attend. In fact, today was the first time in over three days that Bruce had actually shown at one of his scheduled events. He was clearly a tricky man to pin down, so you’d decided you’d just have to make the most of it when you found yourself in a room with him.

And that was what you had done. The two of you had now been sat in the tiny coffee shop for over an hour now, both on your second drink, and you couldn’t help thinking that - over the two weeks you had known him – you and Bruce had really begun to connect. He seemed to be quite open with you and, in return, you were becoming more and more relaxed with him.

This however, did make you feel bad when Bruce continued to flirt with you. You had hinted to him at the party that things were complicated, but you had also then proceeded to flirt with Bruce whenever the two of you were together – after all, that seemed to be the easiest way to obtain information. Now, however, you were finding it harder and harder to heartlessly flirt with the handsome man when you knew you weren’t really available.

It had also made you occasionally half-wish you had met Bruce before J. It wasn’t that you no longer loved J – you did - but you could see a different life with Bruce then you could with the Joker. That feeling was even more profound at the moment thanks to J’s recent behaviour making you feel like you were nothing more than a toy to him, something he could pick up and put down as he pleased. It had used to suit you as a budding business woman that didn’t have time for a real relationship, but now, more and more, you felt you need something beyond that.

As if reading your mind - or perhaps just the emotions on your face - Bruce now reached out to lay a large hand over yours where it rested next to your coffee cup. “Are you alright?” He asked, and your heart pulled painfully at the obvious care in his voice. Why couldn’t J be like that? You whined in your head, then you wouldn’t have all these doubts.

“Look, Bruce,” You sighed, dropping your eyes from his face to the table, “Your - your lovely - really, but I – I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here…” You confessed.

“You have a boyfriend.” Bruce murmured, remembering back to what you had said at the party.

“Kinda.” You admitted sheepishly. He raised an eyebrow at your choice of word. “Well, its – uh,” You shook your head slowly from side to side as you thought about how to explain any of this “– it’s complicated.” You settled with lamely.

“Aren’t all relationships?” Bruce smirked lightly, and you were relieved to see he didn’t seemed to be annoyed about you turning down his advances.

“Hmm.” You hummed in agreement. “I think that’s the problem,” You confessed, “I’m not even sure it’s a real relationship anymore.” You said, shaking your head, keeping your eyes on the grooves worn into the table top. You felt Bruce’s hand squeeze yours and you glanced up, suddenly realising you had never pulled away from him. You felt your cheeks warm. “I – I just can’t help but think he just wants me around for the – uh – ‘fun times’, if you know what I mean.” You admitted, glancing up at Bruce, raising your brows meaningfully at him. You watched Brue’s eyes widen slightly at his, the billionaire’s cheeks turn a slight shade of red. “Oh, come on now, Brucie!” You exclaimed in disbelief, forgetting your relationship troubles for a moment, “You can’t honestly hope to pretend to be an innocent school boy about that stuff sorta stuff!” You laughed. “Not with your reputation.”

“I don’t know what reputation you’re talking about.” He dismissed, glancing away, but he looked teasingly back at you from the corner of his eye, his lip quirking again. “Besides,” He said, the blush still hot on his cheeks, “I’m never one to kiss and tell.”

You smirked and glanced down at the table again where your hands were still together. “You’re a good liar, I’ll give you that.” You murmured with a smirk, slipping your hand out from under his, reaching for your coffee and bringing it to your lips. You thought you caught something like humour flicker in Bruce’s features, and you wondered if there was an inside joke you had fallen into, but when you looked at him questioningly, he simply copied your action, taking a sip from his own cup.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, both focusing on your drinks and own thoughts. You finally thought to glance at the time. “Oh!” You exclaimed, “I’d better be off - I wanted to be back at the restaurant before the evening service started.” You explained, draining the dregs of your cup.

“Oh, you got your place then?” Bruce asked, surprised as you pushed back your chair.

Shit.

“Uh – yeah,” You muttered quickly, reaching for your coat that you’d hung on the back of your chair, “I’ve actually had it going for a little while now, but I – uh – I didn’t want to say anything in case it crashed and burned – I’m not overly superstitious, but I’m one to risk it either.” You quickly covered, inwardly cursing yourself for your slip up.

“I understand.” Bruce nodded with a small smile, and you gritted your teeth as you turned away to put your coat on, cursing your heart at it tugged once again. He was like a bloody puppy with his forgiving nature and you needed to toughen up if you were going to survive this.

“Before you leave,” Bruce said, now also getting to his feet as you reached for your handbag. “I wanted to know if you’d like to come with me to the Police Fundraiser at the Plaza tomorrow evening.”

“Another fundraiser?” You chuckled, shifting your bag onto your shoulder.

“I’m afraid so.” He smirked.

You watched him for a moment as you thought about it, your smile dropping at the clear look on his face. “Bruce,” You sighed, “We’ve just been over this, it’s… Complicated…”

“No, I know -” Bruce said.

“I’m just not sure if-“

“Look,” Bruce interrupted, “I just thought - based on everything you’ve been telling me - that you might need an evening off. Purely platonic.” He explained, holding his hands up to you, “Besides, you’ll be helping me – you’ll provide at least a bit of protection from all the girls that seemed to enjoy ambushing me.” 

“Firstly, they are women, not girls.” You corrected, trying to look at him disapprovingly, but failing when you couldn’t help chuckling. “Alright, fine, I’ll come.” You conceded with a laugh. “If only to save you.” You smirked.

“I am forever grateful.” He chuckled, linking his arm with yours. He walked you out of the café and onto the pavement, hailing you a cab and helping you into it before kissing your cheek in parting.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
It was late. Close to 1am, if not past it, you would guess. You were sat in your office, feet curled up on your chair with a glass of whiskey in one hand, the restaurant expenses propped up in your lap. You were flicking through the pages, checking for abnormalities, when there was a knock at your door. You glanced up with a frown, confused who on Earth was still loitering around at this time. Dinner service had finished over an hour ago, and only the bar should open now - and they were more than capable of taking care of themselves.

“Yes?” You called, your voice slightly croaky from the late hour.

The door opened, and a tall, well-built, suited man stepped into your room. You recognised him immediately. “I take it your boss isn’t going to show as well?” You asked Frost as he closed the door behind him and made his way towards your desk.

“I’m afraid not, ma’am.”

“Then you can stop with the formalities, Johnny.” You muttered, taking a sip from your glass as you turned your eyes back on your papers. “Help yourself to a drink.” You motioned vaguely towards the tray that you had moved to the edge of your desk which held a couple of decanters and glasses. Johnny usually declined this offer out of what you believed to be forced manners, but today he didn’t hesitate, moving to the tray.

This made you glance up from your folder. “Tough day?” You questioned, surprised.

Frost didn’t glance up as he poured himself a glass. “You could say that.” He muttered. You waited patiently as he now took the glass and moved to the one of the chairs in front of your desk, collapsing into it, looking more tired than usual.

“He’s really that bad?” You asked, making a face.

Johnny nodded, taking a grateful drink from his glass. “He’s been locked in that office for over a week now.”

“Is he eating?” You asked, unable to hide your worry for the man.

“Well he’s drinking.” Frost said, and you rolled your eyes at this, though at least it was better than nothing.

You let out a loud sigh, closing your folder and tossing it lightly onto your desk. “Is this honestly all to do with Wayne?” You asked him.

“It seems like it.” Frost muttered, taking another sip.

“Why?” You asked in disbelief, “Why is he so wound up over a random billionaire?” You demanded at the room. Frost didn’t say anything, instead throwing back the rest of his drink. You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “You know, don’t you?” You accused.

He sighed. “Boss is holding this one pretty close to the chest.” He murmured in way of explanation.

You rolled your eyes in exasperation, “Unbelievable.” You sighed loudly falling back in your chair, letting your head roll back. You paused for a moment before lifting your head to look at him again. “It’s more than money this time, isn’t it?” Frost didn’t say anything, keeping his face expressionless, but that was answer enough for you. You frowned in thought at what else Wayne could possibly give that would interest J. If not his money, what? Tech? Access codes? Then what was all the information you were gathering for? Blackmail? He’d have a tough time with that, nothing Bruce had told you was exactly exciting enough for that, after all you’d only known the man for two weeks, he wasn’t likely to spill his deepest darkest secrets with you.

“Did you actually come here for something?” You asked shaking your head clear and finally turning your eyes back on Frost who was watching your face as though wondering if you were going to piece any more bits of the puzzle together.

“You met with Wayne again.” He simply said.

“Did J send you?”

“I took it upon myself.” He told you, knowing that wasn’t what you wanted to hear. You rolled your eyes again and reached down to one of the drawers in your desk, pulling out a file where you had jotted down the main points you’d got from Bruce that you could remember and that might – for some reason – interest J. You tossed it onto the other side of the desk and Frost leant forward to pick it up, tucking it under his arm - knowing better than to open it. “Are you meeting him again?” He asked, getting to his feet, having got what he wanted and knowing he was probably outstaying his welcome now.

You nodded. “Tomorrow night. Police Fundraiser. I’m his date.” Let Frost take that back to J and see what he made of that, you thought bitterly. Knowing your luck though, it wouldn’t even penetrate through the J’s mind.

Frost watched your face for a moment, probably seeing the emotions flickering across it, able to read enough of your thoughts from that alone. “[Y/N] –“ He began and you snapped your eyes up to his, staring at him stonily, “Ma’am,” He corrected automatically, “just –“ He paused, considering his words, “be careful.” He warned, and you frowned, confused what danger he was referring to. “Boss has been too busy to watch,” He explained, “but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t got eyes.”

You furrowed your brow at this crypt message, but Frost just nodded in parting and then turned and left the room, leaving you frowning into an empty office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I said I wasn’t writing anymore of this story until I got some of my other series finished, but then someone kind of begged for the next part, and I spent a whole sleepless night coming up with half of the plot so… here’s the next part! haha
> 
> I’m really looking forward to writing this - at least the bits I’ve planned out so far - so I might be getting out the next few parts reasonably soon before I lose the motivation for it!
> 
> (And yes, I have changed the perspective to second person! Sorry if that's annoying, but I find it easier to write fan fiction this way now!)


	5. Part 4

You sniggered discretely behind your hand as the Commissioner leaned close to your ear to mutter a sarcastic remark as the two of you stood together, lectured at by the Mayor over the importance of a good image to the public. Jim Gordon smirked at your appreciation of the comment before he turned his attention back to the man in front of him, now loudly pardoning himself from the company with the excuse of needing to ring his wife. You scowled playfully at his evasion from the monotonous speech and Gordon just winked at you, quickly striding away before you rat him out.

The Mayor watched the Commissioner leave, then turned back to you, slightly less enthusiastic in his conversation now his intended audience member had left. You, however, only had to endure a few minutes of further preaching before the Mayor was disrupted again when Bruce Wayne suddenly sidled up next to you.

“Miss [L/N], glad to see you made it.” He said smoothly, and you couldn’t help appreciating his handsome smile and well fitted suit that seemed to perfectly hug his broad shoulders. “Mr Mayor.” Bruce greeted with a nod to the man, who also seemed surprised by the billionaire’s sudden appearance.

“Mr Wayne!” Mr Garcia exclaimed, “What a pleasant surprise - so rare to see you at these events.” He observed.

“Ah – yes, well, Jim Gordon is a good friend of mine,” Wayne explained pleasantly “– when he requested my presence I couldn’t turn him down.” You glanced up at Bruce, surprised he was so close with the Commissioner. Now, having another - more worthwhile – audience again, Anthony Garcia, continued on with his lecture, now seeming to stress more the importance of adequate funding for the police and other civil servants. You let your mind wander during this and jumped slightly when you suddenly felt Bruce’s arm slipped around your waist. You made no attempt to remove, but instead leant up to his ear, Wayne bowing his head slightly to hear you.

“Purely platonic, remember?” You murmured pointedly, feeling the heat in your cheeks.

“And you agreed to protect me.” He murmured quietly, his eyes flickering from the mayor to you with a slight slyness to them.

“That doesn’t require your arm around me.” You muttered, not buying his excuses and unable to help remembering Frost’s parting words the other day. J had eyes. Everywhere.

“Excuse me,” Bruce suddenly interrupted the Garcia, straightening up and you watched him confused. “My apologies, Mr Mayor, but may I just steal Miss [L/N] away for a moment?”

Mr Garcia blinked, surprised, “Oh – uh – yes – yes, of course.” And Bruce quickly smiled and nodded in thanks before using the arm still around you to hurriedly steer you away before the Mayor could say anything else.

Once you were both safely across the other side of the room, Bruce stopped by one of the large arching windows of the archaic building, the glass slightly distorted though you could make out the blurred blobs of the city lights outside. You pulled away from his arm and Bruce made no attempt to stop you, now turning to face him, your eyebrow raised in question.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Bruce smirked lightly.

“Don’t push your luck then.” You scowled, though you couldn’t get the annoyance to reach your eyes – the touch not entirely having been unwanted.

“I’m just trying to make us look convincing.” Bruce shrugged innocently. “After all, we didn’t arrive together - that alone questions the façade of our relationship.” He pointed out.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Fine, minimal touches are allowed.” You conceded. “But there’s a line.” You warned, pointing a threatening finger at him.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded obediently, and you couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at your lips despite your attempt to remain stern.

You stayed close to Bruce from then on, largely trailing around behind him as he did the necessary rounds of conversation amongst the other important attendees. Bruce didn’t ignore you though - often jokingly checking you weren’t dying of boredom or trying to include you in the exchanges where possible.  One of the people you briefly met up with was Commissioner Gordon who seemed honestly delighted that you were ‘with’ Bruce. You knew you shouldn’t like the head of police – not after all the trouble he caused J - but you liked to classify yourself as neutral ground – you blamed neither of them for their actions, understanding both of them - plus Jim Gordon was just far too charming and witty for you to dislike him.

The conversation had turned to your restaurant and how it was panning out – Gordon insisting he would have to take his daughter to try it - when you felt Bruce seem to stiffen next to you. You paused, glancing up at where stood by your side. “Bruce?” You questioned. “Are you alright?” The Commissioner also glanced over at Wayne.

“Uh – yes.” Bruce dismissed quickly, “Just – I – I need to take a phone call.” He gestured to show he need to step away. “Please excuse me just for a quick moment, I’ll be right back.” He squeezed your hand reassuring - an oddly comforting gesture that confused you - it wasn’t like you couldn’t be on your own for 2 minutes after all. Maybe it was part of the façade again? A doting boyfriend? Wouldn’t that be nice…

Your eyes followed Bruce as he pushed his way through the crowd, though you frowned when you never saw him reach for his phone. You glanced over at Gordon as he also turned to you with a furrowed brow, clearly having noticed the same thing.

* * *

“Where is he?” Bruce growled as he pushed his way through the crowded hall of suits and gowns.

“Hard to pin point for certain, sir.” Alfred explained over the ear piece, “The last camera that picked up facial recognition was in back alley, he may well be inside the building by now – I will endeavour to gain access to the Plaza CCTV footage.” By this time Bruce had slipped into the almost-empty coat room, barely acknowledging the attendant as he grabbed the suitcase he’d brought with him. “He’s making no attempt to hide, sir.” Alfred announced again, “He’s crossing the lobby as we speak.”

“Security?” Bruce questioned, quickly striding out of the room again and back the way he had come.

“Nullified.” Alfred confessed worriedly. “Sir, I do hope you are ready, he appears to be getting in the elevator.”

“Nearly.” Bruce muttered, pushing his way back through the crowd, slipping past trays of drink to where he had left [Y/N]. She now stood alone, the Commissioner having been called elsewhere, and Bruce now able to grab hold of her without much question, pulling her after him.

“Hey!” She growled, then noticed who it was, “Bruce?! What –“

“Come with me.” He instructed, not letting up as he pulled her after him.

“What –“ She tried again, pausing when she caught sight of the briefcase he held, “Are we leaving?” She asked in surprise.

“Not quite.” He muttered, ignoring the weird looks the two of them were given from the people they pushed past.

“Bruce!” [Y/N] cried as he now yanked her through a doorway and out into a deserted hallway that was being used by the Plaza staff to maintain the levels of horderves and alcohol supplied to the guests. The door fell shut behind them and Bruce didn’t hesitate before continuing to tug her, rather harshly, down the corridor. He would apologise later, right now his main concern was her safety.

Finally, Bruce stopped, pulling open a random door on his left and dragging [Y/N] in behind him. “Bruce!” She protested again, confused and now a bit frightened about his odd behaviour. She’d never taken Bruce Wayne to be a man to haul young ladies against their will into a cleaning cupboard.

“I need you to stay here.” He told [Y/N] firmly, steering her around into the centre of the room, his back now to the open door. “Please.” He insisted earnestly when he saw the look of uncertainty in her eyes. “I’ll be right back.” He promised for the second time that night.

[Y/N] went to open her mouth to protest again, but before she could manage anything, Bruce had stepped backwards out of the room and closed the door on her.

The sound of the lock clicking in place echoed ominously in her ears.

 

* * *

“Good evening, ladies, gentlemen and well-dressed individuals!” Joker declared, and there was a collective gasp around the room as heads turned and several women let out screams of terror. No one moved, all frozen in place thanks to their only exit being blocked by the mad man who now stepped causally into the hall, grinning in all his glory and flanked by numerous armed men. “Sorry to crash your little money grabbing event,” He grinned humourlessly, waggling his pale fingers at them, “But I do believe you have something of mine…” He growled through his grin, leaning forward and glancing around the room expectantly - as though waiting for someone to step forward and hand him something. “And I’d like it back…?” He sang when no one moved, his eyes dancing around the room impatiently, eyebrows high. He growled when there was still no movement, his grin dropping as he straightened up, continuing now to step into the room.

“Do you feel powerful?” He questioned, clasping his hands behind his back, his grin slipping back into place. “A room of pigs and not a weapon amongst you – you’re almost making it too easy!” He laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. “It’s just a shame really that you’re not why I’m here this fine evening…” He pouted, not stopping directly in front of Commissioner Gordon, raising a hand to readjust the head of police’s bow tie. “What da ya say, Comish? You seen my little toy?” He asked innocently with a tilt of his head.

Gordon glowered stonily back at the Joker. “No one here knows what you’re talking about, clown.” He growled.

The Joker tutted, shaking a finger in Gordon’s face, “See that’s where I think you’re wrong, Jimmy - at least one person knows where… And he _also_ knows it doesn’t belong to it him…” Suddenly he lunged at the Commissioner, snatching his shirt collar. “It’s _mine_ you see.” The Joker snarled into the man’s face. Then, just as suddenly, the clown’s face dropped into a dramatic look of sorrow, “And - Jimbo - I gotta admit, I kinda miss it.” The Joker confessed, theatrically tearful, as Gordon struggled in pale grip.

“So!” The Joker suddenly declared, perking his head up, his grin snapping back into place a he now pulled his gun from its holster, jamming the muzzle just under Gordon’s sternum. “If you’ll all just –“  Joker suddenly paused, a sly grin spreading slowly across his face. “Ah, bats…” He drawled smoothly, now taking a slow step around, still holding Jim. “The one suit I was really looking for…” He grinned, now facing the Batman who stood tall and silent, his black cape curled over his shoulders. The Joker kept the gun digging into Commissioners ribs, but Gordon kept his face blank, fighting the urge to wince.

“Batman.” Jim greeted causally, with a nod to the caped crusader.

“Jim.” The low voice greeted back. “Let him go Joker. Your quarrel here is clearly with me.”

“I have no _quarrel_ with you, Batsy!” The Joker exclaimed in surprise, rocking himself with his laughter, pulling Gordon with him. “No, no.” He gasped, shaking his head. “I simply want what is… _Mine_ …” He snarled, suddenly moving the gun to jam it up into the Commissioners lower jaw and the man gasped in pain. There was no humour in the Joker’s eyes now, his grin taking on a more sinister look.

“I don’t know what you are talking about Joker.” Batman said quickly, flinching with the movement, muscles tensed and on alert.

“Funny, that’s what I thought you’d say…” The Joker growled lowly, clicking the safety off his gun and a brief flicker of fear crossed the commissioner’s face. “Maybe this’ll jog your memory.” He grinned cruelly.

“This isn’t funny, Joker.” Batman growled, his eyes flicking worriedly to Gordon who was trying to now keep his expression stoically passive. “I don’t _know_ what you want.”

“On the contrary Bats, I’m finding this hilarious!” The Joker cackled, “You! Attempting to convince me you don’t the know girl you’ve spent the entire night with?!” He laughed even harder now when he saw the flash of understanding in the cape crusader’s eyes. “Ah, _that_ rang a little bell in that batty brain of yours, didn’t it?” The Joker growled through his wide grin. “So how ‘bout now,” The Joker snarled, jerking Gordon forward to use as a human shield, ramming the gun even deeper into the Commissioner’s jaw, making him wince, “Tell me where she is.”

“Why do you want her, Joker?” Batman growled through clenched teeth.  
“Want her? O hoo hoo, Batsy,” The Joker hooted, “I’ve already got her….” He sneered. “Or did the dolly conveniently forget to mention that…?” She’s mine.” He grinned widely. “Now, though…” He mused, tilting his head sympathetically, “if you don’t believe me…” He grimaced, nodding his head in acceptance of this. “Maybe you should just ask her yourself… hmm? Why don’t you bring her out of wherever you’re hiddin’ her, hmm?” He said, moving the gun away from Gordon for a moment to waggle it in the air, “Do a little demanding of your own for once?” He suggested slyly.

Batman glowered at the clown, his jaw tense. “Jim?” Batman asked, though his eyes remained on the Joker. “Jump.” He said simply, and Gordon immediately complied without question as a grappling hook shot across the length of the floor, grasping onto the Joker’s ankle and, with one swift pull from Batman, knocked the clown off his feet. The Joker landed hard on his back, knocking the breath of him and he laughed a silent cackle as his gun fired randomly off into the ceiling.

“Denial’s the first step of acceptance, Batsy!” He gasped between laughs where he rocked on the floor.

“Jim get everyone out of here! Now!” Batman instructed, and Gordon immediately turned to usher people out, skirting the edges of the hall whilst the Joker lay in the middle of the floor, Batman turning to deal with any of the Joker’s men that might try to stop them. The dark knight had most of the men laid prone on the floor before the Joker had managed to disentangle himself and scrambled to his feet, now lunging for the Bat’s back, a blade in his hand. The crusader dodged out of the way nimbly dodged, cloak following on behind him and the clown stumbled slightly before quickly spinning around for another attack, his eyes mad and excited.

“Face it, Joker, you can’t win this time.” The Batman growled, his lip bleeding from a well timed his from the butt of one of the men’s guns.

“Thought I’d only come with a couple of men and a gun?” The Joker cackled in disbelief. “I thought you knew me better, Batsy!” He pouted. “But I know you!” He grinned widely, something insidious in his eyes. “And you and your new sweetheart are running out of time…” He sneered madly. Something snapped in the Bat and he snatched Joker by his collar, hauling him just off his feet as the clown laughed manically.

“What have you done?!” He demanded harshly.

The Joker whooped with laughter. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He cried through his chuckles, “But I’d say…” He lifted his wrist up, glancing at where a watch should be. “You only have a few minutes to work it out…” He grinned cruelly, glancing back down at the bat.

Batman threw him aside and the clown whooped loudly as he was now surrounded by security and armed cops that had finally arrived to aid the situation. They drew their guns, all aiming their guns down at the psychopath who was creasing up in laughter as Batman now turned and ran for the where he had left [Y/N].

* * *

 

You jumped up from where you had resigned yourself to sit and wait as you heard the sound of the door unlocking. “What the hell is going on?” You demanded, then stopped wide-eyed and your mouth hanging open slightly when you saw Batman outlined in the doorway.

“Come with me.” He growled. “Quickly.” You didn’t move and so the vigilante grabbed your arm, pulling you out and forcing you to numbly stumble after him as you were dragged back down the corridor.

“Where’s Bruce?” You demanded, glancing around as though he would suddenly appear next to you. The bat didn’t say anything, continuing to pull you along, you almost having to jog to keep up with his large, fast strides, his cape fluttering alongside you. “What is going on?!” You demanded when he didn’t acknowledge your question. “Where are we going?!” You panted as he pulled you into the now-abandoned hall that had previously held the party. Where had everyone gone?

“We need to leave.” The bat finally muttered in answer, stopping in the middle hall, spinning as he seemed to think what to do next.

“Wait! Where’s Bruce?!” You cried, trying to pull your arm out of his grip though the man was far too strong for your struggles to make any difference.

“He’s safe.” The batman growled in answer, ignoring your attempt to escape him. “But you are not.” He stressed, and you stopped pulling at him frowning in confusion. What was going on, where had everyone gone? Why was batman here? Was it J? It might not be, there were enough other criminals that might take advantage of a room full of unarmed cops. And how had Batman known where you were? Had Bruce told him?

Suddenly you heard a loud, terrifying explosion and the floor under your feet shook, forcing you to throw your arms out to balance yourself. “We need to go.” Batman growled, and you nodded in eager agreement as he grabbed your arm and pulled you forward again towards the large glass balcony doors. You shoved through the doors and before you could truly process what was happening, the Batman hand wrapped and arm around you and jumped with you over the railing, firing out a grapple hook to the nearby bare bones of a skyscraper construction site.

The air rushed past you as you were pulled up, then again as Batman released the device, dropped in a flurry of his cape onto one of concrete floors, bare apart from the matching walls that supported the floor above, a few tools left scattered behind from where the workmen had retired for the day, and a thin layer of dust that covered every surface.

The jolt of the landing knocked you from the bat’s grip and you stumbled forward, your weak legs and unable to catch you, making you fall hard on your knees, scraping the palms of your hands against the rough concrete. Tears stung your eyes from the pain and you weakly went to scramble up right again, only managing to push yourself to your knees before you froze as another explosion sounded, seeming to rock the whole building site. You could only glance back in fear at the where the bat had been moving to help you, before the floor beneath you vanished and your stomach dropped as you were suddenly falling.

A moment later you had landed flat on your stomach, your jaw painfully colliding with the floor, your arms thrown out either side of you. You gritted your teeth at the agony that racked through your body, but you didn’t have time to assess the damage to your body, a large chunk of debris from the floors above now falling nearby, sending a sickening crack through the already weakened floor and suddenly the floor was giving way beneath your weight again.

You landed in a similar position on the next floor, gasping in pain as you hip hit the edge of a chunk of flooring, dust and rubble showering down on to of you. You felt the tower block shake again and you could feel this floor beginning to cave in beneath you as well. You didn’t hang around this time, bracing against your injuries and scrambling up, heading for the edge of the room where the floor didn’t seem to give in as easily. You weren’t fast enough though, and the floor began to drop beneath you with your stomach again. You threw yourself forward, scrambling for purchase on the edge of the crumbling crater, finally managing to hook your around one of the large boulders of previous ceiling where the floor didn’t seem to be giving way.

You felt several large pieces of rock and flooring hit against your legs as you hung desperately suspended over the hole in the floor, already hearing the next level giving way below. If you fell now, you’d be falling two flights and you might not be so lucky with the extent of your injuries. If you didn’t escape this construction sight soon though, the whole building would collapse on top of you.

Where was the bat?

The tower shook once again as you used your remaining strength to heave and claw your way up, eventually managing to hook one leg over the edge of the flooring, despite the agony in your hip, and pull yourself the rest of the way, rolling onto your back a few feet away from the disintegrating edge. You lay there panting and limbs shaking, your whole body covered in a layer of sweat and dust. You didn’t even have the energy to flinch as something landed lithely in a crouch next to you.

“Come on.” You heard the gruff voice say, and the figure bent down to help you up, their strong arms lifting your feet again and then hooking around your waist to support you. The dark figure pulled you forward, this point your mind tired and numb from shock, your vision slightly blurry from the knocks and painful tears.

You barely heard the next explosion, didn’t even hesitate as the figure urged you into a run and forced the two of you to leap off the exposed side of the building site into a freefall. “Hold onto me.” You heard the command next to you despite the wind rushing past your ears, and you did as you were told, wrapping your arms around the armoured shoulder and waist, feeling the arm around your waist now pull you securely against the man’s chest.

From where how you were positioned, clinging to the bat, you looked over his shoulder at the building you had just jumped from, now seeing the final explosion shake the entire structure before it collapsed in on itself, a wave of heat washing over you. You buried your face into the Batman’s padded shoulder armour as rubble fell around you, feeling the sharp stings of the debris cutting into your hands and cheeks.

Over the noise of the building crashing into the floor, you heard another roaring noise, and you dared to look up through the rising cloud of dust to see a large dark shadow overhead. You heard a familiar sound, saw something shoot up into the sky and then the sound of metal on metal, before the two of you suddenly jolted to a stop. The Bat let out a sharp gasp of pain at the sharp pull on his shoulder, his hand gripping the grappling gun the only thing that suspended the two of you, his face contorted in pain and the effort of holding both of your weights. You quickly began ascending through the dust cloud, your eyes stinging from the particles and forced to close your eyes, praying the Bat could manage to hold on long enough.

The next thing you, a new pair of hands was pulling you from the safety of the Batman’s armoured chest and onto a cold metal surface. Your eyes stung, and you kept them screwed shut, but you could hear a mechanical shutter-like sound coming from your right, then the roaring sound died down to a low rumble and the air stopped pulling at your hair.

You could hear some muttering close by, urgent whispering and, after a considerable amount of rubbing, you managed to open your watery eyes, allowing you to see a blurred image of a figure now dropping down beside you. You continued to blink in an attempt to clear your vision as their hand now reached out to lightly touch one of your cheeks, gently turning your head to the side. You felt a soft, damp material against the skin of your other cheek and a second later you let out a sharp gasp of agony as a sudden pain shot through your nerves.

“My apologies, Miss.” Came a familiar, sage voice. “I’m afraid this will hurt a fair bit.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this took a bit longer then I meant for it too as I had to at least try to revise a bit today, but, hey, it’s done!
> 
> I apologise if there are a lot of mistakes at the end, I was kind of writing and editing at the same so I haven’t really read it through altogether!
> 
> Hopefully it’s alright though? I think it has a bit of everything in it (it’s longer than I thought it would be, I could have cut it off earlier, but thought, whats the point?)


End file.
